CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
There Were Giants in those Days
A
t
half-past three in the afternoon, with the strong sunlight tracing the diamond pattern of the window panes on the polished floor of the Colonel’s library, lending that great austere room some of the indolent warmth of the garden, five men surrounded the heavy table desk on which the yellow length of an historic document was spread.
The great house was pleasantly silent. There were birds singing in the creeper and the droning of a bumble bee against the panes, but the thick walls successfully shut out any sounds of domestic bustle. The air was redolent with the faint mustiness of old leather-bound books, mingling delightfully with the scent of the flowers from the bed outside the windows.
The distinguished stranger, a tall, gre
